


this silver spoon has fed me good

by hickeyziall (scentedziall)



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery, Fluff, Food Fight, Harry is the father, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Kissing, Liam is the mother, M/M, figuratively of course tho, louis being a child, this fic is a shitshow of my own feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 07:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8703307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scentedziall/pseuds/hickeyziall
Summary: "We realise you won’t be thrilled about this, Zayn, but we hope you understand that this is necessary for you to be considered the heir of our business in the future."
Zayn cleared his throat to gain the attention of the boy, who whipped his head around in response. He was taller than Zayn, young and lanky in a charming way that matched the dimples in his cheeks. He wore long, wild hair, hardly contained in a bun, and the uniform green apron with the patisserie’s logo printed in black and white next to his nametag.
"Good luck. You’ll need it."
aka rich kid working in a bakery au?





	

**Author's Note:**

> don’t ask me where this is based, at what time, or why Zayn’s family would run a French hipster café brand. because I don’t know. Idk what school system even has winter break but I make the rules and you’re dealing with it. Also this is completely self-indulgent and rushed and augh. I hope literally anyone enjoys this.
> 
> title from “Super Rich Kids” by Frank Ocean.

Zayn’s body visibly sagged as he kicked off his leather shoes – he’s sure the maids won’t mind. They’re familiar with his messy tendencies by now. He dropped his familiar brown satchel onto his desk, so full of notes and worksheets that he couldn’t get the clasp to shut properly. Cleaning out his locker at the end of the semester is always a bother. He’d not gotten his grades back yet, but his parents should have received them by the time the staff has supper ready.

 

The first semester of his final year of secondary education was over, and he couldn’t be more relieved. Sure, end of year exams still loomed over his head, but he was doing well in his classes, and he was happy with that.

 

He sat on the edge of his bed and rolled out his shoulders as he slipped his navy school blazer off his weary frame. He really should’ve gotten someone to carry that satchel for him. As he changed into his house slippers, he heard a sharp rap on the doorframe.

 

“Yes?” He called, slipping off his school shoes.

 

“Your parents request your company for a discussion concerning your schooling. Shall I let them in?” A maid stood in his doorway, wearing the uniform black business skirt and white button-up shirt.

 

“Please do. Thank you, love.”

 

She nodded, and stepped out to let the door open for his parents.

 

“Mother, father, do come in.” They smiled and thanked him politely, and he stood up to greet them more professionally. Although they never pressured him to, he preferred to remain practiced and polished in front of his close family. You can never be too sure, after all. Keep your enemies close, and all that.

 

“Good afternoon son,” His mother, Trisha, hummed. “Did you have a fine day at school?”

 

She was dressed in her house slippers and an evening robe; a crimson number that Zayn knew was brand new, imported from a designer in Japan that she had been frequenting recently. His father stood beside her, in a simple white button-up and trousers, obviously already shucked off his suit jacket and vest once he arrived at the Malik family’s main residential estate.

 

“I did, yes.” Zayn kept his voice calm as he spoke. They all knew why Zayn’s parents came in to see him – it’s not like Zayn rarely sees his parents, but they tend to give him plenty of space, especially after school. It’s only on nights like these that they are even home at this hour.

 

“I’m sure you’re aware that your grades were to be delivered tonight, yes?” Zayn nodded at his father, used to his serious tone, even in mundane conversation. “They came in a little earlier than expected – and your mother and I have already had a chance to discuss your results.”

 

Zayn swallowed against the lump in his throat. Getting right to it, then.

 

“Relax, Zayn,” his mother chided, not unkindly. “You know that you did well. You always make us so proud.” Zayn smiled back at her, making a conscious effort to relax his shoulders.

 

“You’re at the top of your class. Well done, son.” Zayn couldn’t believe his father’s words. He – he knows he’s bright, knows that he’s put more effort into his work than ever this semester, gotten to know his teachers well enough to ask for help without thinking about it too much – but.

 

This has never happened before.

 

“I’m glad,” Zayn hummed proudly, smiling a genuine smile. “I’m glad to hear that my work is paying off.”

 

“That’s not all, Zayn,” his father continued, gesturing for Zayn to take a seat on the freshly made bed. “We have an assignment for you.”

 

~

 

Zayn glowered at the building as his car pulled up – the outside and patio a classy contrast of black marble against exposed brick and wood, with gold-trimmed awnings giving shade to the outdoor seating area. The front was fairly open-plan, with a large pair of glass doors giving way to a polished yet cozy interior. The setup was familiar to Zayn – after all, this was one of the many chain cafés that his family’s company owned.

_We know you’re well prepared for University – you’ve done wonderfully in school, and we’re confident that University entrance exams will be no problem for you._

His regular minder opened the side door with a weary smile, well aware that his master would be in a sour mood this morning. It was only the first day of the winter break, and his master already had places to be.

_However, you have no real-world experience as of yet. We feel that this is necessary for you to have under your belt before you leave secondary schooling._

He stepped out of the black Range Rover – his personal favourite of the family’s cars – and onto the sidewalk to meet his driver.

 

“You will be picked up from here at 4pm. Good day, Mr. Malik.” The man lifted his hat in acknowledgement before returning to the driver’s seat. Zayn sighed. Gathering his strength for the day ahead of him. Dealing with people below him has never been his forte.

_You will take on an apprentice role at one of our family’s bakeries over your six-week break; we don’t know how long you will work there in total, but we will see how you manage at first._

 

The interior was impressive – a classy take on the popular hipster vibe that the city is quite fond of. The tables inside were wooden, with minimal polish, and the menu was written in chalk on a large blackboard-painted wall. It had a semi-vintage, comfortable vibe about it that Zayn can’t quite place the appeal of. It’s a very good business model in its own respects.

A staff member was clearing a table when he walked in, piling used cardboard-coloured napkins and dirty mason jars onto a tray to carry out of sight. Zayn himself could barely remember clearing a table other than his own school desk.

_We realize you won’t be thrilled about this, Zayn, but we hope you understand that this is necessary for you to be considered the heir of our business in the future._

Zayn cleared his throat to gain the attention of the boy, who whipped his head around in response. He was taller than Zayn, young and lanky in a charming way that matched the dimples in his cheeks. He wore long, wild hair, hardly contained in a bun, and the uniform green apron with the patisserie’s logo printed in black and white next to his nametag.

_Good luck. You’ll need it._

“Good morning, you must be Mr. Malik! The surname’s Styles, but since we’re pals, you can call me Harry.” He’d practically bounced over to Zayn, abandoning his tray on the faux-worn tabletop and smiling not unlike a certain feline.

 

“Please, I’d prefer something a little more professional,” Zayn replied, his practiced tone just sharp enough to seem intimidating. Although Harry, it seems, took no mind.

 

“Well, I don’t mind too much, sir. Welcome to Malik Patisserie and Cafè!” Harry supported his welcome with jazz hands and a blinding grin. Zayn had to refrain from cringing. “Come with me and I’ll introduce you to the people you’ll be working with.”

 

The young man walked him behind the counter and past the shiny interior of the kitchen, and finally into a quaint staffroom. A small group of people around the same age as them both sat around a coffee machine.

 

“Team! Attention over here, my flock of young doves.” Only one turned to face Zayn at Harry’s words, the rest continuing their conversation. Harry huffed, deflating a little. “Children! I have a very important announcement!” A few more staff turned around, looking quite surprised. It’s about time someone here shows some respect, Zayn thought. “Our newest apprentice has arrived! Mr. Malik, here are your team members:

 

“Liam, the head chef-” Harry beamed, gesturing towards the young man. He was tall and well built, with trimmed facial hair and the face of a kind soul. He had short brown hair neatly tucked under a hairnet and eyes to match – he seemed humble, and someone that Zayn could get along with.

 

“Louis, the front man-“ He motioned towards an older looking boy next, who was much shorter, but had the face of a troublemaker. Louis raised his eyebrows in greeting, rolling his eyes afterward. He had fluffy brown hair, and a messy fringe pushed across his forehead. Zayn couldn’t help but notice some stains on his uniform, and cringed inwardly.

 

“Niall, the pâtissier-” Niall stood out, to say the least. He had to be the youngest, with his blue eyes and freckles and bleach-blonde hair. He smiled a goofy smile and waved daintily, which – okay. Zayn took in a breath and nodded back politely rather than return the gesture. He would rather not get too friendly with these commoners, at least not on the first day.

 

“And, last but certainly not least,” Harry winked, “is me! Harry Styles, manager. Now,” the boy clapped his hands and turned away from the group. “Time to get you suited and booted. Follow me, newbie.”

 

Zayn sighed, but followed behind Harry regardless, casting a parting glance to his co-workers. They smiled knowingly, and almost a pitiful way in Liam’s sake. They must be used to this kind of immaturity, Zayn thought, and held back a cringe.

 

It’s going to be a long six weeks.

 

~#~

 

He pulled back the changing curtain after taking one last look in the mirror, righting his apron. Zayn flinched - the group was back, staring and aww-ing at him, and he groaned.

 

“Aww, Zayner, you look absolutely precious!” Niall cooed, walking up to Zayn, then looking disappointedly at the wilted bow tying the apron together around the man’s waist. “Tisk, tisk. I’ll fix that for you, then.”

 

Zayn flushed at the rest of the group smirking at the situation, despite his attempts to bite it down, and cleared his throat. “Uh, Zayner?” He inquired, once Niall was satisfied with his appearance.

 

“Yes! You work here now, so you need a nickname. I’m not sure about that one, though.” Niall hummed, wondering back to his station, presumably to work. Hopefully to work – the rest of the staff are otherwise occupied, talking outwardly about Zayn appearance as if he weren’t there.

 

“Zayno?” Harry supplied, hands on hips.

 

“Nah,” Louis dismissed, “Too close to Payno. That’s Liam, by the way.”

 

“I really would prefer a formal greeting, to be fair-“

 

“How about Zaynie?” Niall gasped, eyes bright and far too energetic for Zayn to comprehend right now.

 

“That’s it!” Harry cried, hands clasped beside his head. “Nametag time!”

 

As the man ran off, yelling something about a Sharpie – commoners and their slang, I’ll never understand – Liam put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. Zayn shrugged it off, flattening his uniform. “I’d prefer a lack of physical contact, thanks, Mr. Payne.”

 

Liam startled, pulling his hand back like someone had burned it. “How do you know my last name is Payne?” Zayn smirked.

 

“Of course, I’ve already had a background check completed on all of you. I like to be briefed on the people I am to be associated with,” Zayn explained, taking out a notepad from his apron pocket. “You grew up in Wolverhampton, and you have older two sisters, who both work in law. You attended law school to follow in their footsteps, but due to economic fluctuation at the time, you transferred into a culinary course and that’s how you got into this job. Of course I know your surname.”

 

Liam looked a little scandalized, but nods. “Right. Uh, don’t tell Louis you know all that stuff, though. For your own good.” Zayn laughed, pocketing his notebook once again.

 

“Couldn’t find much at all about him, actually.” Their eyes drift to where the young man in question is standing – next to the coffee machine, Harry straightening out his collar and scolding him. “No parents, a few sisters – only one of which he sees these days. Dropped out of university a few months in due to costs. He’s obviously no threat to me or my family - why should I be scared of him?”

 

Zayn smirks – having a personal research team, and access to a notable selection of government documents, certainly does have its benefits.

 

“He’s a feisty thing, Lou. He has his ways of getting what he wants. If you want your stay here to be a relatively pleasant one, you’ll try to get off his bad books.” Liam sounds genuinely concerned, and it makes Zayn scoff.

 

“Not a fan of the rich and famous, I take it?” Liam laughed, shaking his head and starting on his way into the kitchen.

 

“You could say that.”

 

~#~

 

“Right! First step to becoming a committed worker;” Harry started, slapping a hand onto Zayn’s back, “Is to learn the register!”

 

They were out the front, and actual customers were already filtering into the cafe. The register was digital, with a bar of different menus on the left side. The little clock in the bottom right-hand corner reminds Zayn that it is only 8:30 in the morning. He sighed as subtly as he could manage.

 

“Once you learn how to handle the front, we’ll teach you how to bake; you’ll be manager in no time! In fact, I used to be a baker myself!” Harry was starting to get on Zayn’s nerves. Why did he have to be so damn melodramatic all the time? “Louis here will show you the ropes between serving customers – he’s a natural tutor.”

 

Louis hadn’t looked up from his phone since they left the staffroom, but he nodded along to Harry’s words like a bobblehead doll. Harry frowned, noticing his behavior, and snatched the phone out of his hands. Louis flinched, getting ready to protest.

 

“No phone for you, young one. Be a good example for our newest worker, yeah? Then maybe you’ll get it back.” Louis fumed, eyes flicking between Harry and Zayn, before sighing.

 

“Whatever. And, for the record, I’m older than both of you. You can’t keep calling me your kid forever. It’s weird.” Harry teared up at that, and – really? Has Zayn stepped out of a normal world and into some kind of theatrical drama?

 

“How dare you disgrace the family like this?! And in front of your new brother, no less! Mother will surely be hearing about this, young man. Now, to work! We have customers waiting!” Harry huffed, marching over to a larger, more professional-looking coffee dispensary, waiting for orders.

 

Louis rolled his eyes, dragging his feet on the way to the register. “Hi, welcome to Malik’s, how can I help you?” Zayn balked – is this really what his family thinks is appropriate service for their customers? He watched as the customer recited their order, and Louis punched it in efficiently, but grumpily. “Anything else?”

 

The customer took their receipt and found a seat near the entrance to wait for their food and Louis went on to the next. Zayn tried to keep track of the different menus and their contents, but he’s never quite been a visual learner.

 

Once the line had been taken care of, and orders were on their way out from the kitchen, Louis turned to him.

 

“Get any of that, Zaynie? Coffee menu is here, pastry menu is there. There’s paper here to keep track of if we’re out of stock of anyth-“

 

“Call me Mr. Malik, please, or Zayn, if you must. I’m not one for nicknames, Mr. Tomlinson.” Louis rolled his eyes, not seeming impressed.

 

“Right, Mr. Tight-Ass. We get it. You’re refined, or whatever. I’ll do my job the way I like.” Louis sneered narrowing his eyes. Zayn didn’t back down, but didn’t show he was angry, either. “Maybe if your fancy-shmancy brand paid me better than the 7/11 down the street does, I’d listen.”

 

“Let’s not act like children, now, Louis. I wouldn’t want this encounter to reflect badly on you as an underling of my family’s company.” Zayn knew he sounded like a brat, but come on now. Louis must not be aware of his rich blood, surely.

 

Louis span around to face him, got up in his face as much as he could with his shorter stature before he was pulled away by the ear.

 

“Time-out for you, little one!” Niall cringed as he avoided Louis’ hand trying to get himself free, shutting the staffroom door behind the man. “Sorry about that! He just needs to blow off some steam.” Niall made his way back over to Zayn, wiping his hands off on his apron.

 

“No trouble. We didn’t get too far with the register, though.” Niall dismissed that with a wave of his hand.

 

“You’ll get back to it another time. For now, though, I’m going to teach you some basics of baking! Harold, cover the register for Lou-bear, would you?”

 

Harry saluted in response, serving the new wave of customers as Niall showed Zayn the way to the kitchen.

 

~#~

 

“Here we are,” Niall announced, sweeping a hand down the metallic surface of the countertop. “My pride in joy, my own little kitchen. Here I make most of the pastries that are put on sale in the café.”

 

Zayn marveled at the cleanliness of it – the worn-in baking trays stacked next to the industrial oven, the sunflower yellow oven mitts on hung up with their own hook – it all felt very personal, like going into someone’s bedroom for the first time. The look on the boy’s face as he washed his hands in preparation made Zayn feel like he was witnessing something special.

 

Which is – Odd. After all, he’s only just met the kid, and he’s already made Zayn feel like home.

 

Huh.

 

“Right! Did you have anything in mind for us to bake?” Niall inquired, turning to face him with hands on his hips.

 

“I’m not quite familiar with what we make, unfortunately-“

 

“Perfect!” Niall interrupted Zayn’s uneasy babbling, taking his hand. “We’ll start easy, then. Brownies it is!” The blond pushed him towards the fridge, rolling up his sleeves and spouting something about butter and eggs and pans.

 

Zayn was quietly endeared.

 

~

 

“Right. Do you know how this works?” Niall hummed, sifting some flour with on hand and the other gesturing to the oven.

 

“Uh,” Zayn replies, uncharacteristically inarticulate. He’s not used to being this far out of his comfort zone – a kitchen is extremely uncharted territory. He’s always had maids that take care of this kind of thing.

 

“Don’t worry, it’s not that hard, but I’ll take care of it. Here, stir for me.” Zayn does as told and keeps out of Niall’s way. He hears a quiet fwoom and Niall closes the oven door, satisfied. In the few seconds that Zayn wasn’t paying attention, he seems to have made a bit of a mess.

 

Zayn balks when Niall notices, trying to wipe off the eggy, flour-y mess off his apron, an apology already on his lips, when Niall starts cackling.

 

“Zaynie! How did you even manage that?” He heaves between laughs, and Zayn’s cheeks burn an angry red. He composes himself, then leans over and grabs a fistful of flour and blows it into the boy’s face. Zayn’s victory is short-lived, though, because Niall’s right back at him with an even bigger mound of white powder.

 

Zayn spits out the flour, coughing in an attempt not to smile at the sound of Niall’s laughter because he’s meant to be mad, dammit.

 

“You insolent commoner, look what you’ve done!” Zayn hisses, trying in vain to clean his hands on the dry portion of his uniform. Niall looks a little scared for a second, like he knows he’s stepped too far.

 

Zayn smirks then, retaliating with the nearest thing he could find – cocoa powder. Niall mock-screams, laughing and shaking out his hair before stealing the whole tub of flour to arm himself with.

 

Before either of them notice, the air is thick with various powders, and eggs, and God knows what else, and Zayn can’t remember the last time that he had this much fun.

 

~#~

 

Hunks of wet baking materials swept off his body and onto the floor of the staff bathroom. Zayn grimaced – the feeling of wet clothes was a lot more fun when Niall was pelting him with eggs.

 

Niall was smiling, though, as he scrubbed a washcloth along his arm. He was endeared – who would have thought that uptight, serious Mr. Malik could be this much fun? Niall knows how this place comes off – it seems like a bit of a mad house, even to him, after working at the establishment for about two years.

 

It was nice, Niall thought, that Zayn felt he could let loose here. He could probably use a bit of fun.

 

Zayn looked over at him then, and he smiled. “Got a little bit out of hand, didn’t we?”

 

Zayn smiled back, and shook his head. “Yeah, a little. Is there anything we can change into?” Niall nods, brandishing his, shockingly, clean and unharmed cell phone.

 

“I’ll ask Harry to bring us a couple spare uniforms.” Zayn nods, pulling off his now-sticky shirt.

Niall really, really tried not to look, because this is the heir to a million dollar hospitality business we’re talking about, not just some newbie he can ogle at – but he’s just so _…how do I put it,_ Niall thought. _Pretty isn’t quite right._ He watches as Zayn runs his shirt under the tap, his long eyelashes sweeping across his cheeks in a way that Niall didn’t quite notice when he was looking at him from the front all day. _Attractive is closer, but... it’s not there yet,_ He went on, watching Zayn hang the shirt to draw over the glass wall of the employee shower. Zayn slipped then, catching himself on the sink to catch himself and laughed, smiling a dorky smiled and making a remark about the slippery floor and better drainage systems.

_Zayn is radiant._

 

Before Niall even knows what he’s doing, he’s leant in close, and Zayn’s eyes are unreadable, only centimeters from his own.

 

“Niall, I…” Zayn sputters, cheeks aflame, before regaining his composure. “You… you can kiss me.”

 

Niall sighs, relieved that he didn’t just fuck up this entire arrangement before leaning in, pressing his lips against Zayn’s own.

 

Zayn’s hands find a place at Niall’s waist as they kiss, sweet and giddy and still a little cold from the wet clothes that remained on their bodies. Niall just got his fingers into Zayn’s styled hair when the door burst open, Harry emerging with an armful of fresh uniforms.

 

“Choo choo, the laundry train has arri-“ Harry stopped, seeing the two of them intertwined, and they separated quickly, Zayn clearing his throat and Niall just wheezing with laughter.

 

“MOTHER, COME HERE! THE CHILDREN ARE BRINGING INCEST INTO THIS FAMILY!” Harry screeched, and Zayn really hoped that the dining room was very far away from here. Liam peeked his head into the room, registered the situation, then turned to Harry.

 

“Darling, they’re not related by blood, and they’re both over 18. I’m sure they don’t need you getting involved, okay?” Liam explained, calmly and fondly exasperated.

 

“But Liam,” Harry started, being pulled from the room by his coworker. “I bet you it was that damn Louis, being a negative influence on our sweet Nialler and little Zaynie-“

 

Niall looked down and Niall, and Niall looked back, and they laughed to fill the silence.

 

“I know this might not be appropriate, because we’re coworkers and I have an important position to fill after I leave here, but,” Zayn hummed, taking Niall’s hand and talking in a small, genuine voice. “I hope we can do this again, with less ingredients involved.”

 

“Good, because I liked kissing you. Before I kiss you again, though, you’ve gotta shave. It tickles.” Niall replied, cupping Zayn’s cheek with a soft, pale hand.

 

“Like this?” Zayn mused, launching at Niall and the younger man screamed, running away.

 

This was the start of something wonderful. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was based on a 1-season anime called ouran high school host club that killed me. i wanted to write about ouran but i had to do this fic exchange and this is the best i could come up with. if you've watched the show, these are the dynamics i went with:  
> niall is honey.  
> louis is the twins.   
> liam is mori.  
> zayn is kyoya/haruhi.  
> harry is tamaki.
> 
> yuck


End file.
